The Box
by iris fibonacci
Summary: Scarlett gives Rhett a special present for their 5th wedding anniversary.


The Box

Scarlett sat at her dining room table, staring at the brandy decanter, its cut crystal facets refracting the light of a dozen candles from a pair of six-branched, silver candelabra. She was looking a little bleary-eyed; nursing her second generous glass of brandy when the Westminster chimes of the wall clock sounded the quarter hour. One fifteen in the morning, where was he? Damn him, it was their anniversary, or rather yesterday was. Married five years to Rhett Butler. Married to him, mother of his child, yet as much a stranger to his thoughts on this day as ever, perhaps more so. They no longer even made an effort. How long had it been since he'd offered her warm words or made her laugh? He spoke to her politely, impersonally, about the children, or household affairs only. How did they reach this impasse? One of his softly drawled barbs would be a welcome change.

Scarlett decided to make a celebratory effort. No words had passed between her and Rhett acknowledging the impending anniversary. Instead, Scarlett had discussed her plans with her new friends while playing whist. Mamie Bart had turned the conversation ribald, remarking on a variety of techniques for inflaming a man's passion in order to properly observe an anniversary celebration. Scarlett felt the conversation was improper, and resented Mamie for introducing the subject. She had the uncomfortable feeling that even among these pretentious new friends of hers it was common knowledge that she and Rhett no longer shared a bed. Bridget Flaherty, feigning well-mannered reticence, scolded Mamie, while Scarlett gave her a tongue-lashing for her crudeness. Mamie laughed off Scarlett's harsh words, as she often did, and told Bridget she was a hypocrite. After all, Bridget was all ears when Mamie, former bordello madam that she was, gave her the same professional advice before her own anniversary a few months earlier.

The party ended on a sour note shortly after that, and Scarlett went home, pondering Mamie's words. The memory of the events of the night following Ashley's surprise party two years earlier had been jogged by all the bawdy talk, making her cheeks burn and her heart beat faster. Rhett never touched her again. Scarlett's heart sank just thinking about it, realizing that this must be how Rhett treated those women who filled the empty space she had left in his bed. Yet, why did the memory of it open an aching void? Her behavior that night made her no better than Belle Watling. "Or Mamie Bart," she thought snidely.

A jeweler's gift box lay on the table, between the candelabra, wrapped in shiny black and white stripped paper, tied with a triple looped burgundy grosgrain ribbon. Scarlett was hard pressed to think of an appropriate gift for the husband from whom she was effectively estranged. It must be something personal, reflect good taste, and yet have some sort of sentimental meaning to tie it to this anniversary. The fifth anniversary was customarily celebrated with gifts made of wood. Wood? Scarlett shopped for weeks, yet inspiration failed her. Then, Bonnie, in a fit of temper, broke something of Rhett's, a small box, made of burled oak, containing a captain's clock and compass.

The box was normally kept on the night table in Rhett's room. Occasionally, he'd let Bonnie play with it. Though it was small and nestled comfortably in the palm of his hand, it filled Bonnie's two little hands. She loved to watch the needle on the compass spin around as she darted and danced about clutching it. Her father told her that one day he would explain how to use it to guide her direction.

One afternoon the children were confined to the nursery, bored, because it was rainy and they couldn't play outside. Ella and Wade were tossing a bean bag back and forth to each other, arcing it just out of Bonnie's reach, and laughing at her failed effort to grab it. As her frustration mounted, Bonnie took the small box and hurled it at the fireplace. The box was open, and the glass faces of both the timepiece and the compass shattered on contact. The clock arms bent, and the leg fell off the compass. The room immediately went silent.

Ella bolted for the door to go find her mother.

Wade hissed at his baby sister, with a gloating smile: "You're going to catch it now!"

When Scarlett found the mess, she called for Prissy to sweep up the broken glass and confined all the children to separate rooms. Wade and Ella were chastened but secretly pleased. The two older children were only too aware of Bonnie's special status as the baby, and favored child in both parents' eyes. They felt a frisson of guilty pleasure at the chance to see her get into trouble for a change. When Uncle Rhett got home he'd be mad. The little box was his, and even though he allowed Bonnie to play with it, it was now ruined.

But Rhett wasn't angry, not with Bonnie, anyway. Scarlett watched him take Bonnie on his knee and elicit the explanation for her behavior. She told her father how she'd gotten mad and threw the box. Rhett laughed and told her he'd seen her mother do worse! Scarlett left the room in a huff, and told Prissy to throw the remnants in the fire. In turn Rhett was angrier with Scarlett than Bonnie. The clock and compass might have been repaired or replaced, instead, the box was totally destroyed.

The look on his face rose up in her mind—mingled anger, resentment, and annoyance. Scarlett remembered the first time she had seen the little box, on their first night together, five years ago. He placed it on the bedside table, and tilted the clock face so that he could see it. Its gentle ticking was a reassuring sound, almost as reassuring as the feel of his arms around her, or the beating of his heart when she laid her head on his chest. Rhett told her that the object had been his grandfather's, and he carried it with him through the years of the blockade. Scarlett hoped to make amends by giving him this new one. For some reason, that was important to her right now.

***

Rhett was riding home, in no particular hurry despite the late hour, after spending the last part of the evening playing cards at Belle's. It was a fine spring night, the cool air filled with the smells of the awakening earth. Earlier, after putting Bonnie to bed, he slipped out quietly to avoid his wife, and told Pork to tell her he would be back after the political meeting he planned to attend. He didn't think she'd notice his tardy return. He liked the peacefulness of the hour. No one else was abroad on the streets of Atlanta; no nosy matrons waved to him from their porches as he rode by, no curious busybodies wondered why he was out so late.

It was his and Scarlett's anniversary, their fifth wedding anniversary. "More like fifth _adversity,"_ he thought with bitter irony. "What was there to celebrate? Broken vows—love, honor, and cherish? Obey? That was a laugh! Scarlett, obey? She answered to a higher calling, the sound of a cash register."

When he married Scarlett, his heart was full to bursting with affection for his spirited, young bride, as he envisioned a lifetime ahead spent exploring her secret places, awakening her passion. Finally he would possess her body and soul. The feel of her smooth alabaster flesh, pressed along the length of his side, her silken hair spread across his chest, his fingers lightly stroking her skin, and holding her close, a thousand sweetly sensuous memories of their first nights together ignited longing and desire in equal measure. She was like a drug, intoxicating and dangerous. And like one addicted, when she ejected him from her bed, he reeled from the pain of withdrawal, overwhelmed by cravings.

He turned to Belle for physical release. It softened the sharp edge of desire, leaving behind the ache for comfortable intimacy with his wife. He sought to fill the void with alcohol, and drank to excess for months, very nearly convincing himself he no longer cared. He knew she could be both cruel and selfish when he married her, but this was more than any man should have to tolerate. They lived in the penumbra of the shadow of Ashley Wilkes. On the night of Rhett's public humiliation two years ago, as all of Atlanta learned of Scarlett's previously hidden obsession, Rhett sought once and for all to blot Wilkes from his wife's consciousness. He reveled in her passionate response, seemingly equal to his own; yet, in the aftermath it was as though nothing had changed. They returned to the status quo ante. Rhett resolved to dam up his feelings; especially after the physical trauma he'd caused her in the summer of 1871.

Bonnie became his saving grace, and his love for her knew no bounds. Before her birth, he never imagined it was possible to have such deep, uncomplicated feelings for another person. Contemplating their future, his thoughts revolved solely around his daughter. He would take her to Virginia, to Kentucky, to England, for hunting, riding, and jumping. He never thought of what life might be like after the children grew up and left home, leaving him alone with Scarlett. That was too many years distant; after all, Bonnie was barely four years old. So much time would pass before she was grown, time rich with possibilities yet to be discovered.

Rhett dismounted and led his horse to the stable in the rear of the property. As the sleepy groom removed the animal's saddle, Rhett walked around to the front door. He slipped in quietly so as to not disturb those sleeping inside, and noted with displeasure that the lamp usually left burning for him in the front hall wasn't there. Instead, he could discern light coming from the dining room. He cursed the servants' carelessness, leaving a gaslight burning could cause a fire. Someone would hear about this in the morning!

Upon entering the dining room he was surprised to discover Scarlett sitting at the table, in front of the brandy decanter. She was dressed in nightclothes, her wrapper falling open, exposing her bosom. For a second the old want rose in him, but evaporated the minute she opened her mouth.

"So, you finally made it home." She swept her arm toward the end of the table where an intimate place setting for two was assembled, amid multiple covered platters containing roast leg of lamb with new potatoes and asparagus. "I waited supper for you."

"That wasn't necessary."

Scarlett wrinkled her nose in distaste. "The meal is ruined." The smell of the cold food, coupled with too much brandy on an empty stomach made her feel slightly nauseous.

He took in the scene. It appeared as though something was on Scarlett's mind. "Why are you still awake?"

"It's our anniversary."

"No doubt a meaningful occasion for you."

"I thought we could enjoy a nice meal together."

"This really means so much to you?" His tone held a bite of sarcasm. Was she about to put the touch on him for some outrageous new expenditure? Nothing motivated his wife quite like money.

"Isn't that what most couples do on their anniversary? Spend time together?"

Rhett shook his head, indifferent. "I wouldn't know."

Scarlett pointed to the wrapped present. "For you." She pushed her chair back, and rose, a little unsteadily at first.

"She must have been drinking for quite a while," he thought, seeing Scarlett sway slightly as she stood up.

"I'm going to bed. Good night." It was hopeless. Why waste time trying to talk to him? She had wanted to see his face when he opened her gift, hoping to see his features suffused with pleasure, hoping he would understand she was sorry for burning the old one. She steadied herself with an outstretched hand, lightly grazing the furniture, as she walked with mincing gait, her fur-trimmed mules slapping at her heels.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Rhett reached for the package. He gauged its heft and wondered what it could possibly contain. There was only one way to find out. He tugged at the end of the ribbon, and pulled off the wrapping paper to expose a polished mahogany box with a hinged lid, and a brass faceplate engraved with the date. He flipped the latch, and opened the box. Inside were a small captain's clock and a compass. It was finer than the old one, more modern, but nothing could replace the memories associated with that old box.

The day Rhett left for his plebe year at West Point, his parents, and aunt and uncle accompanied him to the dock where he would board a sailing ship bound for New York City. He was filled with the restless energy of a young man, eager to be out from under the oppressive control of his father, to test his limits and discover the world. As his Aunt Constance hugged him good-bye and wished him well, she pressed a small package into his hand, and told him not to open it until he was aboard ship. Aunt Constance was a favorite of his; she had a lively sense of humor and Rhett found it hard to believe that she and his father were siblings. Once the vessel began moving into the channel, gliding toward Fort Sumter, and the Atlantic Ocean beyond, Rhett pulled the package from his pocket. Inside the rough outer wrapping was a brief note from Aunt Constance explaining that the object had once belonged to his Grandfather Butler. Grandfather claimed that the compass brought him luck and always pointed his way home. On time, too, he would add with a wink. Aunt Constance hoped that the luck held for Rhett and that he would always be guided home safely. That winter, as Rhett chafed under the restrictions of life in the Corps of Cadets, and froze in the cold dormitory room he shared with three other plebes, he stared out the window at the seemingly never ending snow fall, and dreamed of sailing away to a warm place. In spirit he felt his grandfather at his side, as he closed his hand around the rounded edges of the old burled oak box.

Scarlett could never understand or appreciate what the old box meant. The woman lacked empathy and was utterly unimaginative. Perhaps she'd understand if he attempted to dispose of Tara against her will. That seemed to be the only thing in life she valued above money. Watching Bonnie play with the box seemed symbolic to him of what it meant to be a Butler. He sensed the old pirate would be very proud of his great granddaughter.

He slipped the mahogany box into his pocket, blew out the candles, and headed for his own room. As he passed the door to Scarlett's room, he could see a thin ribbon of light radiating from under it, and thought he heard the faint sound of muffled sobs. After checking on Bonnie, he went back across the hall to Scarlett's door, and knocked softly.

"What?" she snapped with a hiccough.

"Please open the door."

Reluctantly, she opened it, and stood there, eyes glittering with tears. She had shed the wrapper, and through the thin fabric of her nightgown he could make out the unmistakable contours of her figure.

"I wanted to thank you for the fine present."

She tensed her jaw defiantly, lifted her chin and turned away from him, sniffing. "You didn't see fit to get me anything."

Rhett stared blankly at her, his mind screaming in disbelief, "I gave you the most precious gift I had to offer and you refused it." There were no words; he had nothing to say to her. He started to leave, when he felt her hand on his sleeve.

"Don't go…"

"Why not?"

"I wanted this evening to be special."

"You seem overwrought. Get some sleep."

He started to move away, but she closed the distance between them. Though they weren't touching, he could feel the warmth radiating from her, smell the brandy on her breath.

"No." She slid her hand up to his shoulder and pressed her body against his. Enveloped in her warmth, she filled his senses, and his defenses against the old need crumbled. The tension in his body loosened, and he closed his arms around her relishing the feeling. "Stay with me," she whispered.

A few minutes later, as he hastily finished disrobing and dropped his trousers on the floor, they landed with a thud. The new mahogany box was still in his pocket. Already the little device had fulfilled its function; it had guided him home safely, and perhaps just in time. The old pirate would approve.


End file.
